Chapter 21

Twenty-One

T he day of the ball dawned warm and bright, the perfect sort of day for the first ball of the Season. The event was held a good hour’s carriage ride away, and so Stephen had encouraged Ruth and Lady Cecelia to meet him downstairs at 6 o’clock.

Ruth had a maid assisting her in the preparations, something she’d never had before. It felt like such a luxury to be the one bustled about instead of the one doing the bustling, but she was thankful for the help. She was overwhelmed with anticipation and excitement, and beyond that completely unprepared for how to dress in a garment like the one the modiste had delivered in style that very morning.

The maid fussed about for a time, lacing up the undergarments and lifting Ruth’s hair up off her shoulders to prepare for the silvery blue gown laying upon the bed.

“Have you heard how Lady Cecelia is doing?” Ruth asked nervously. “Perhaps I ought to go next door and be certain that she is well. I promised her that I would be at her side during this entire process.”

The maid laughed. “I can’t imagine she expected you to be at her side whilst she was being laced into her ball gown,” she said. “I have strict instructions to tend to your every need, Miss Selwyn, and I know there are two maids next door with the same instructions as regards the Duchess.” She went to the bed and picked up the silky gown laying there. “You just relax and enjoy.”

The gown felt lighter than anything Ruth had ever worn. It slid over her body like water, pooling in shimmering folds in a gentle train behind her and skimming just above her satin slippers in the front. There was very little edging or ornament on the splendid fabric — the style of the dress was where the elegance and beauty was found. It looked Grecian, just as the modiste had promised, gathered at the sleeves with tiny silver ribbons and coming down into a pretty v- neckline. There was a silver chord under the bodice, and fine silver buttons in the back.

The maid helped slide on a pair of long pale gloves, and then sat Ruth down to tend to her hair.

“I don’t want it to be too fancy,” Ruth said nervously. “Nothing powdered or structured. I already feel a bit ridiculous as it is,” she shrugged. “As though I am playing a part.”

“You look like a queen,” the maid said, a little wistfully. Ruth wondered if the girl wished to trade places with her. It was likely not every day that a housemaid was required to help a simple lady’s companion dress for an event of this magnitude. The maid loosely pulled Ruth’s hair up, letting a few curls spring free, and pinned it simply atop her head. “You don’t need any structure,” the girl went on. “Simple is best.”

She reached into the dressing table and pulled out a handful of small diamond-studded pins, taking the time to nestle a few of them in amongst Ruth’s curls.

“Those are beautiful,” Ruth said, sucking in her breath. “Where did you get them?”

“The Duchess sent them over,” the girl said with a knowing smile. “She thought they would suit your complexion.”

After that, it was a matter of a few small adjustments and the maid declared Ruth ready to go downstairs. Ruth went out into the hall nervously. The evening light was shining simply in the empty space, and Ruth felt a sudden desire to stay here in the manor, where it was safe.

Then she heard Stephen downstairs, talking in gentle tones to his aunt. She couldn’t understand his words, but felt eager, all at once, to see him. She walked over to the staircase and made her way down, her gloved hand sliding along the rail.

Stephen was standing at the bottom, his aunt on his arm, leaning over at teasing the old woman with some story or other. Lady Cecelia looked positively radiant in her scarlet array, her snowy hair piled atop her head, a ruby pendant about her throat. She seemed girlish and healthy. Ruth caught the old woman’s eyes and smiled in greeting.

“My Lady,” she said, “You certainly are a picture this evening.”

“And you, my dear,” the Duchess said with a gracious, regal inclination of her head. “You have made a fine effort, I must say. You look every bit the part of a lady.”

Ruth turned and looked at Stephen. He was watching her with an intensity in his eyes that made her heart melt within her. He nodded at her, but said nothing. Why is he saying nothing?

A footman brought their cloaks and they climbed into the coach with Stephen’s help. He handed Ruth in gently, his hand warm where it supported her waist, and then climbed in across from her and the Duchess.

Ruth felt confused as they set out. The three hardly talked as the drive went on. She wondered if she had done something wrong — it seemed that her arrival at the top of the stairs had brought an end to the teasing between the Duchess and Stephen; as though she had somehow stolen Stephen’s desire to speak.

After a time, the Duchess began to talk about the coming ball and her excitement about the event. This softened the conversation somewhat, but still Ruth sensed some new tension in the air. Every so often she caught Stephen looking at her, and looked away.

At last, the carriage pulled up before a glorious mansion on the outskirts of London. The house was imposing, fashioned of white stone, and had been arrayed in the most magical of ways. The courtyard was full of carriages unloading sparkling couples into the interior; the outside hedges were trimmed with silver and gold, and there were ornate lanterns hanging all along the pathway welcoming guests inside. Music wafted out the open oaken doors.

Stephen handed the Duchess out of the carriage first, guiding her to a nearby bench so she could sit whilst he gave directions to the coachman, and then reached up for Ruth, taking her hand and helping her to the gown.

“Are you quite well?” she asked in a low voice. She had been wanting to ask him the entire ride, but couldn’t manage to do so in a way that would not uncover him in front of his aunt. “You seem subdued.” She bit her lip. “Do I not meet with your approval?”

A look of intense feeling crossed Stephen’s face and he stepped forward suddenly, his fingers helping with the clasp of her cloak.

“Allow me, my Lady,” he said. In a lower voice, he added, “Miss Selwyn, you will stop the ballroom in its tracks. I have never seen you so beautiful.”

She felt her heart in her throat. “Thank you, my Lord,” she said, turning when he had slipped the cloak off her shoulders and handed it to the footman. “Is aught else occupying your mind?”

He looked around him momentarily, and then nodded. “I have had a letter from my parents,” he said. “They requested I do not bring my aunt to the ball tonight. They believe she will cause a scene.”

“But she is so excited,” Ruth breathed, looking over at the small figure clad in ruby tones upon the bench. Lady Cecelia was gazing towards the brightly-lit manor with anticipation written on her every feature. “She will be devastated if she must go home.”

“Of course,” Stephen said quickly. “I would not think of denying her this evening, I assure you. I am only anticipating my parent’s disapproval.”

Ruth nodded, understanding. “It is a public event,” she said gently. “They cannot be so very angry, can they? Society will dictate their response.”

“Perhaps so,” Stephen said. His eyes fell on her face, and Ruth warmed under his gaze. “If I grow disconsolate, I may always avail myself of your presence, after all.”

“You are not alone,” she agreed.

He held out his arm to her, and together they walked over to Lady Cecelia and helped her up. They moved in towards the music and the sparkling lights. Ruth felt an overwhelming excitement as the three stepped into the grand open hall, and then into the ballroom itself.

She had been impressed by the exterior of the mansion, but now that she was gazing upon the ornamental interior she was beside herself with astonishment. The hosts had drawn inspiration from what appeared to be a golden wonderland, decorating the hall with bare trees made of twisted gold paper, white roses, and sparkling silver banners.

It seemed as though she had stepped into an Olympian fairytale, walking amongst nymphs, gods, and goddesses. Ruth felt people turning to look at them, and blushed a little at the attention. She knew they cut an interesting picture: her because of her low pedigree, Stephen because of his position in society and handsome bearing, and her aunt as the returned recluse shining in ruby glory.

“They are looking at you,” Stephen said, contradicting her thoughts. “Just as I said.”

I do not belong, Ruth thought to herself, and yet when I am with him, I feel as if I do. They walked carefully around the edge of the ballroom until they found a small sitting area with plush cream seats and a footman near at hand.

“For you, Aunt,” Stephen said, showing her to a chair.

Ruth smiled at the older woman, who was looking about her with childlike delight.

“Is it just as you imagined it?” Ruth asked.

“It is as beautiful as I remember,” the Duchess said softly. “Look at everyone dancing. The women are like sparkling lights, are they not?”

“As are you,” Ruth said, drawing up a seat near at hand.

She had only just sat down when she saw the tension in Stephen’s jaw and followed his gaze across the room. There was a couple making their way over. She guessed at once who they might be. Even if they weren’t the most elegantly dressed people in the room, I would be able to see from Stephen’s face that that man and woman are his parents.

Lord and Lady Richmond had the bearing of a king and queen, attired in dark, rich robes, their faces set in displeasure. Ruth stood quickly, holding out a hand to help Lady Cecelia to her feet.

“Father, Mother—” Stephen reached out a hand in greeting. “I am pleased to see you.” He turned and forced a smile. “You of course know Aunt Cecelia, but allow me to introduce to you her companion, Miss Ruth Selwyn.” His eyes seemed to take on a new light when he caught Ruth’s gaze. “And Miss Selwyn, these are my parents: Lord and Lady Richmond.”

She curtsied deeply, her heart in her throat. “My Lord,” she said. “My Lady. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Lady Richmond looked at Ruth for a long moment in silence. Ruth knew that the glance could have only lasted a second or two, but it felt like an eternity. It was as though in those small moments Lady Richmond was explaining every detail of the disparity in their ranks and upbringing.

“Charmed, I’m sure,” she said icily. Then she turned to Stephen, speaking with a forced smile on her face. “Stephen, we sent word yesterday.” She looked significantly at Lady Cecelia and then back at Stephen. “Did you not receive our message for some reason?”

Ruth knew that she had to be referencing the letter of which Stephen had spoken. The one where she asked him to come alone. She saw Stephen’s jaw work in frustration.

“I received your letter,” he said in response. “Thank you for your continued and, may I say, constant communication.”

“I am not sure what you are implying,” Lord Richmond began icily. “We wrote you because your departure just before the start of the Season was out of character and decidedly foolish. We wrote regularly because we are your parents, and concerned for your well-being—”

“Hello, Sister.” Lady Cecelia stepped forward and extended a pale, small hand to Lady Richmond. “It has been some time since we’ve seen each other, I know. You look well.”

Lady Richmond looked at her sister with wide eyes, and Ruth saw a chink on the regal woman’s armor for the first time. She looked, for a moment, like the little sister that she was. Then Lady Richmond looked around her, as though remembering they were in a room full of people, and drew back.

“Cecelia,” she said quietly. “I have not heard from you in far too long. I would have hoped for a quieter place to renew our acquaintance.”

She’s worried her sister will make a scene, Ruth realized. She wondered if Lady Cecelia realized it too, but it was hard to read the older woman’s reaction. She simply dropped her hand and went quietly back to sit in her chair, a little removed from the group. Ruth wanted to join her, but, before she could escape, Lady Richmond turned to speak to Stephen, blocking her way.

“Do you see what you’ve done?” Lady Richmond asked, keeping her voice low. “I told you not to bring her here. She is not well, Stephen. She is not stable enough for a public event like this.”

“The doctor disagreed,” Stephen said quietly. “He thought it would do her good. Miss Selwyn, also, believed that some time out in public would encourage her to come back into society.”

Lord Richmond shook his head. “Miss Selwyn is a lady’s companion, not a doctor,” he said. “You said you hired her only a few weeks ago. How could she know enough of the situation to speak with any credibility on the matter?”

“She’s standing right there, Father,” Stephen said slowly. “If you would like to contradict her opinions, you should speak directly to her.”

Ruth winced. “My Lord, there is no need.” She tried to leave again, but before she could go Lady Richmond interrupted again.

“We asked you to come to this ball because we genuinely thought you would find a serious match here.” She opened her fan and whispered behind it, loud enough that Ruth could still hear, “Showing up with your aged aunt and a female governess does not make you very approachable.”

“She is not a governess, Mother,” Stephen responded. “She is a lady’s companion. And my aunt is family. Perhaps the real question is not why our family is seen with Aunt Cecelia in public tonight — perhaps the real question is why it has taken so many years for us to find ourselves in this situation.”

“I will not be lectured by you, Son,” Lord Richmond said.

“You do not know what I have been through all these years without the sister that I loved most ardently,” Lady Richmond began.

Ruth felt a jolt of pain, seeing tears welling in the older woman’s eyes. It was unusual to see a woman so powerful and unflappable showing her emotions in such a way. Ruth cleared her throat.

“I think I should be going,” she said.

“Yes,” Lady Richmond snapped. “I think that would be best.” She looked at Stephen as though to question why Ruth was there in the first place, and Ruth felt a blush of embarrassment rush into her cheeks.

She went to sit by Lady Cecelia, thankful at least to hear that the noise of the ballroom was enough to mask the conversation. At least she didn’t hear them talking about her, she thought. Inside, she was reeling with disappointment. She had allowed herself to be caught up in the fantasy of it all — the beautiful ball gown, the handsome consort, the elegant mystery of pretending she was one of these sparkling people — but now she saw that dream shattered at her feet.

Stephen’s parents had been as he described them, cold and dismissive. They were set on their own agenda for his life. She saw that Stephen was frustrated, and she knew that he had his own hopes and dreams, but now she could see clearly that his wishes would take a second seat to the plans his parents had for him.

She saw him take a deep breath, holding up his hands as if in surrender and turning to look across the ballroom at a woman indicated by Lord Richmond. He turned and looked back at her and her aunt.

“If you will excuse me for a moment,” he said, bowing deeply, “I am afraid I must go meet an acquaintance of my father’s. I will come back when I am free.”

He walked away, Lord Richmond at his side.

Lady Richmond cleared her throat. “Please make yourselves comfortable,” she added. “I wish I could stay and talk, but I am afraid I have many people in the ballroom to keep me occupied at present. You know how it is at the beginning of the Season. So much to catch up on.”

Ruth wanted to tell her to stay. She wanted to beg her to sit with her older sister and reminisce over old times; to rebuild the bridges that had been burned. Still, it was obvious that there was more hurt between the two women then could be overcome in a single night. Besides that, Lady Richmond had made it painfully clear that it was not Ruth’s place to be involved in their family affairs.

Lady Richmond paused before she left, looking over at Stephen. “I wouldn’t expect him back very soon,” she said, looking at Ruth with an expression almost like pity. “He will be quite engaged all evening, I am sure. A gentleman like him, with real pedigree, will be in high demand.”

With that she turned and left, her skirts whirling around her. Ruth watched her go, a sinking feeling in her chest. She’s right, of course. He will be otherwise engaged all evening. She watched him across the room. His meeting with the young lady was framed under one of the pillared archways beside the terrace, as though it was a Grecian painting. He was bending down a bit to look at the other girl, his red hair falling into his face in that beautiful way that Ruth so loved. The girl was a pretty little thing with dark hair and large eyes, dressed in a stunning blue gown trimmed in gold. She kept tittering and hiding coyly behind a gold fan.

Ruth looked away, forcing a smile as she examined Lady Cecelia. “Are you feeling well, my Lady?” she asked. “Do you need some air?”

The old woman had lost a good deal of her anticipation and sparkle after the run-in with her sister, but she turned and smiled at Ruth nonetheless. “I was thinking of asking for some punch,” she said. “I wish I’d asked Stephen for some before they carried him away.”

“I will go get you some myself,” Ruth said, standing quickly. “It is no matter that Stephen has other duties tonight. You and I shall enjoy ourselves as best we can.” There is no reason that my dashed hopes should ruin her evening, she thought, chiding herself for her selfishness.

She hurried off in search of the refreshments table, finding it surrounded by young gentleman who had been sent off to gather drinks and dainties for the young ladies waiting in the wings. She was one of only a few women at the punch table, and saw a few glances of appreciation tossed her way.

“My Lady,” one tall man said, approaching her with two punch glasses in his hand. “I’m not sure I’ve seen you around before.” He extended one of the glasses to her. “A lady as beautiful as yourself should not have to fetch her own refreshment. Please, have one of these.”

Ruth hid a smile. “Good sir, I would not deprive the lady you originally intended that drink for of her libation. I am perfectly capable of getting my own punch.”

He stepped to the side ever so slightly, blocking her way. “You did not answer my question,” he said, his eyes resting for a moment on her bare shoulders. “Why have I not seen you around before? Are you visiting from another part of the country? Are you from the Continent, perhaps?”

Ruth didn’t like the way he was speaking to her so possessively, as though he had earned the right to her attentions by finding her first in the ballroom.

“Do I sound like I am from a different country, sir,” she asked in dangerously sweet tones. “Is this really what you imagine an Italian accent to be? A French one? I thought gentlemen like yourself were well-schooled in the Romance languages and could spot an English country accent when they heard one.”

“I am indeed schooled in the language of romance,” he said, raising an eyebrow and winking with a dashing bravado that left Ruth feeling a little ill.

“Aye,” she said. “I see what you did there. A very clever turn of phrase indeed.”

She turned to go, but again he was at her elbow. “I am Lord Elliot, from Darby. Please tell me your name and title, or I shall be forced to follow you around all evening. I shall fill your dance card and deny you all other suitors.”

Ruth sighed. “I am nobody,” she said. Her gaze found Stephen again. He’d walked out onto the dance floor with the girl his father had introduced him to. They were dancing close together. The girl was looking up at Stephen with a rapt expression. Ruth felt a little ill. “Just nobody,” she said again.

“I see that you are being coy.” Lord Elliot gave a little laugh, planting himself like the foppish dandy he was in front of her and leaning charmingly against a pillar. “You will now not tell me your name because you are hoping that I will fill your dance card. You are hoping that I will supplant all other suitors. You know much about mankind, my Lady, for you understand that the thrill of the chase is a greater inspiration than—”

“I am Miss Selwyn,” Ruth said, turning on the man with an edge in her voice. “I am a lady’s maid of no title and no wealth. I am an old maid in the making, and I have no connection. I bid you good day, sir.”

She turned and walked away, angry tears threatening in her eyes. She was not surprised when the gentleman stayed behind and made no further effort to follow her. It is what she had wanted, after all. She had learned that the surest way of keeping handsome young lords from considering her a marriageable prospect was to admit the truth of her background. No man of title or wealth could legitimately allow himself to fall in love with her.

She looked out on the dance floor and saw Stephen looking down at the dark curls of the girl he was dancing with. No man.